


my mind, it travels

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Online Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s just so easy with him, and she thinks it should be alarming, how comfortable she is with someone she’s never met. They Skype and Facetime all the time, though, so she supposes she’s met him now. Just not, you know. Officially. Face to face. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>When she looks at the camera, Bellamy is scrolling through his phone, his head propped up on his hand, laying on his side. Her eyes are drawn to the little patch of skin that’s revealed when he’s stretched out, and she tears her eyes away. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Anything good?” She asks, and he snorts. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It’s Twitter. There’s never anything good.” He sets his phone down and looks back up at the camera, a fond look on his face.</i>
</p>
<p>AKA modern AU ft. internet friends having Feelings™</p>
            </blockquote>





	my mind, it travels

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty short compared to other things i've written lately but i couldn't get the premise out of my head. also, i've decided that despite E.T.'s recent comments about bellarke - actually IN SPITE of them - i am going to keep writing bellarke because i can and because i love bellamy blake. find more stories in my archive or visit me on tumblr [here](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> the title comes from lyrics from the song “north” by the family crest.

“Just imagine them all in their underwear.” Bellamy’s voice is loud through the tinny speaker of her laptop.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That’ll help. Will you let me get on with this?”

“Miss Griffin, are you going to keep harrassing the audience or are you going to give a speech on feminist politics?” 

“Bellamy, I swear--”

“The crowd might be rowdy, Clarke. I’m just trying to prepare you.”

“Okay, okay, seriously. How does this sound?” Clarke asks, adjusting her legs so she’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, facing her laptop. She reads out a speech that she’s been working on for her political science lecture the next day, feeling herself blush when, after she’s done, there’s no reaction from the boy on the screen in front of her. “It’s that terrible, huh?” She tries to joke, but starts chewing on her fingernail, her anxiety kicking in.

“No!” Bellamy splutters. She sees him move around, trying to get comfortable, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “It was good! Really good, Clarke. I was just surprised -- you quoted me.”

Clarke blushes again. “That study you told me about fit well for the topic.” She shrugs.

Bellamy is grinning now, the smug idiot. “So I’m your primary source?”

Clarke scowls. “Shut up.” She’s smiling, however, like most of the times she talks to Bellamy. 

It’s just so easy with him, and she thinks it should be alarming, how comfortable she is with someone she’s never met. They Skype and Facetime all the time, though, so she supposes she’s met him now. Just not, you know. Officially. Face to face. 

When she looks at the camera, Bellamy is scrolling through his phone, his head propped up on his hand, laying on his side. Her eyes are drawn to the little patch of skin that’s revealed when he’s stretched out, and she tears her eyes away. 

“Anything good?” She asks, and he snorts. 

“It’s Twitter. There’s never anything good.” He sets his phone down and looks back up at the camera, a fond look on his face. “So, tomorrow, huh?”

Clarke chews on her fingernail again. “Yep, tomorrow. Ten in the morning.”

“You’re going to be great.” 

Clarke smiles. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“Can we talk about _me_  now?” He asks, his tone teasing, and Clarke rolls her eyes playfully. 

She and Bellamy met on Tumblr, of all places. She followed him first, although she’ll never give him the satisfaction of admitting it, even though he says he has receipts, whatever. He ran a history type blog, posting a “this day in history” post a few times a week that explained a historical event in a way that was easy to understand, funny, and _interesting_. He was good at talking to people, and his background as a history major and now as a history teacher at a high school in his town lended itself perfectly to his online persona.

Clarke’s blog was a little different - it was mostly multifandom posts, and occasionally she would post little doodles and animations she did on her tablet when she got bored. They picked up steam when she started taking requests, and she and Bellamy formally met when she was inspired by one of his “did you know how this _really_ happened?” posts. She drew a mockup of the event he described and submitted it to his blog. It blew up by his followers and hers, and the rest, as they say, is history.

They’ve been friends for two years now, and it only took them about 3 months to exchange Skype info and phone numbers. They talk pretty regularly now, and Clarke, with her limited social circle, considers Bellamy one of her best friends. 

“We always talk about you.” She teases back, hearing him chuckle. “Alright, let’s hear it. What did the kids do today?” 

He goes on for about ten minutes about the kids in his class that refuse to listen to instructions and make him repeat himself a hundred times, and Clarke watches with what she knows is a silly smile on her face, but she can’t bring herself to care.  
  


.

.

.

 

A couple of days go by before she’s able to video chat with Bellamy again. Between her semester wrapping up and his classes ending for the year, they’re both swamped with work and school and lesson plans.

She Facetimes him when she’s on her way back to her apartment, and he answers the call looking distracted, his headphones in his ears, the sounds of the small town he lives in buzzing behind him. 

“Hey, Clarke.” 

He sounds tired, and his hair is in his eyes, and, not for the first time, she has the inexplicable urge to brush it out of his face. 

“Hi. What are you doing?” 

“Grocery shopping.” He replies. “It’s all very glamorous here in middle America.” 

Clarke snorts. “Oh, I can tell.”

Bellamy lives in a small town. Arkadia, she remembers. He paints a bad picture of it - closed minded people that he’s known forever who are always in his business - but Clarke has always wanted to come visit. It would be a welcome change from Boston.

“You know, we really should stop Facetiming while we’re both trying to get somewhere. One day one of us is going to run into a pole.”  He says, laughing. 

“I would never be so clumsy in public. Now _you_  on the other hand...”

“I resent that.” He replies haughtily. A beat, and then, “It would be better if we could just talk in person.” 

Clarke stops on the street. “What?”

He frowns. “Don’t jump at the idea...”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised.” She is, really. Bellamy has never brought up meeting in real life. They live so far apart, it’s never been an option for them, really. But now that Bellamy isn’t teaching and she’s going to have some time off soon, she can see it happening. 

“I just...” he sighs. “Look, Octavia is going to college soon and I just think I need to get away from the town for a little bit. Everyone keeps giving me these pitied looks, and it’s kind of driving me crazy.”

Clarke laughs, and opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, he’s speaking again, quietly. 

“Plus, I think it’s time. Don’t you?”

Clarke’s smile turns wistful at hearing the hopeful note to his voice. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I think it’s time.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a minute and Clarke’s internal anxiety flares up, but she sees him smile, slow and languid, the kind he does sometimes that cause goosebumps to break out over her arms. “Okay. Get home safe, we’ll talk details later.” 

She ends the Facetime call with Bellamy and makes the rest of the way home with a huge smile on her face that she couldn’t wipe off even if she tried. 

Bellamy arrives in Boston two months later after Octavia leaves for college. He’s got a month before his own classes start, and Clarke has a few weeks before she’s back at school, so they figure this is the best time. 

Clarke takes a week off work, as if a week with Bellamy will be nearly enough, and he arrives in town on a picture perfect afternoon. The sun is bright but not too warm, and Clarke, full of nervous energy, kills time at her favorite coffee shop on the edge of downtown. 

Outside, she sits at a table, fiddling with her phone and trying to calm the quick beating of her heart, sipping an iced latte. She shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, telling herself that she has nothing to worry about. 

She and Bellamy are friends. Best friends, really. She _wants_  to meet him, she really does. Now, if only she could convince her sudden and intense anxiety of that. 

“Hey. Need a ride?” A deep voice interrupts her thoughts, and when she looks up, her heart leaps. 

There, idling along the curb in a red pickup truck with a flannel shirt and a backwards baseball cap on, is Bellamy Blake, finally, finally _here_. He grins at her, his perfect white teeth gleaming, and just like that, Clarke’s worries evaporate. 

“I’m not supposed to get in the car with strangers.” She replies. 

“Good thing I’m no stranger,” he says, and cuts the engine. He gets out of the car, and her heart flutters because he’s just as tall and broad as she _knew_  he was, but it’s somehow more overwhelming when he’s here, right in front of her. 

“Bellamy, I’m--” she starts, not really knowing what she’s going to say, but she’s cut off when he takes three determined steps towards her and sweeps her up in a hug, his arms banding around her tight. 

She hugs him back after a little hesitation, and he pulls her closer in appreciation, sighing against her. She feels the same way, she thinks - an overwhelming relief at finally having the one person who understands her better than anyone else in her arms. 

“How did you know I would be here?” She asks him when they break apart. He doesn’t go far, content to cradle her elbows in his hands. 

“Call it a gut feeling.” He says, shrugging. 

“I’m really happy you’re here.” Clarke says, smiling at him, and the way his eyes light up in response, she knows he feels the same way.  
  


.

.

.

 

Clarke and Bellamy are lounging on her couch, her feet propped up in his lap, when he suddenly heaves a huge sigh. 

Clarke frowns at him. “Something bothering you?” 

He glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the TV. “It’s nothing.” 

She smacks him lightly. “Don’t lie.” 

He rubs his eyes tiredly, nudging his glasses out of the way. “I just-- it’s stupid. Octavia hasn’t called me since I dropped her off at school.”

“So that means she hates you now?”

“Of course not. I’m just not used to her not depending on me, or being around. It’s going to be weird going back there without her.” 

“You don’t like being alone. Bellamy, that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Clarke sits up, crossing her legs under her. “You could stay here.” Her heart is beating out of her chest, but she _wants_  him here. 

Bellamy sits up a little straighter, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Clarke...”

She waves her hand. “No, no, it’s okay. You’re right. That’s silly--”

His hand lands on hers, stilling it. “It’s not. I-- you know if things were different, if I didn’t have my job...” He trails off. 

“I hate seeing you sad like this.” Clarke admits. “We’ve been watching Bob’s Burgers all night and you haven’t even laughed.” She teases, watching sadly as the corner of his mouth ticks upwards slightly, but not much. 

He looks at her and there’s something different on his face, something that she’s pretty sure she’s never noticed on his face in all this time they’ve known each other. “I’m not sad, princess. I’ll be okay.” He knocks his shoulder into hers lightly. “You help.” He says simply, smiling gently at her.

Clarke wakes up two hours later in the dim light of the apartment, tucked into Bellamy’s side, and when she looks up at his sleeping face, she wonders how she could have missed these feelings she has for him slamming into her like a Mack truck. She wonders if it will always feel like this, even after he goes back home.   
  


.

.

.

 

_Three months later_

Bellamy unlocks the door to his house tiredly, dropping his canvas bag right inside of the door. He feels like he could sleep for ten years. 

His class today was especially unruly, and he hasn’t had a tough day like this with his students in a long time. That, added to the fact that he and Octavia got in an argument on the phone earlier (where she called him a selfish asshole and then hung up on him) had him in a bad mood. 

Then there was Clarke.

He should have known that once he met her in person and spent time with her that his life would be different. He didn’t count on not being able to get her out of his head. He didn’t count on his heart fluttering every time he got a glimpse of her stupid, perfect face, or the way her voice was husky when they talked first thing in the morning or late at night. 

Now that he’s held her while she slept and woken up next to her in the morning, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone or anything so bad in his life. His life just seems... _empty_. 

His sister has moved on to bigger and better things, and while he’s proud of her, he’s not sure what his purpose is anymore. He loves his teaching job, but there’s a hole in his life that he’s not sure he knows how to fill. 

He’s scared that Clarke is the one that’s supposed to fill it, because he has no idea how to even start that conversation.

Clarke snuck up on him.

When they met, he was just struck by how similar they were, and how easily they were able to talk about even their most personal stories. Sure, she was a little bossy and sassy and always had a comment to make, but Bellamy found that even when she was mercilessly teasing him, he always had a smile on his face.

He’s so stupid. He thought meeting her when he was feeling low and in a bad place and needed some support would be just what he needed, and it _was_. In the best way, she was everything he knew she would be, and still nothing like he expected. 

A knock on his door brings him out of his pity party, and he heads back to the door, wondering if his life has truly evolved to this point - his only friends are door to door solicitors? “Amazing.” He mutters to himself, pulling open the door with a scowl on his face. 

“I know I didn’t call and this is probably the worst, but I _missed you_ , and I got in a fight with my Mom, and I didn’t know where else to go--” 

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice is a breathless whisper, because he genuinely can’t believe that she’s here. 

Her face is tear-streaked, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week, and she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.” She repeats, her voice a whimper, and he’s there, arms outstretched when she practically collapses, sobbing.

 

.

.

.

 

Later, when Clarke has calmed down, Bellamy paces in front of her as she sits on his couch, chewing on her fingernail. 

“So, let me get this straight.” He says, planting his hands on his hips. “You left first thing in the morning without telling your Mom where you were going.” 

Clarke fidgets. “Yeah.”

“You flew across multiple states to visit a guy you met on the internet without telling your Mom.” 

“You’re not just some guy I met on the internet, Bellamy.” She says heatedly, and he rolls his eyes.

“ _I_ know that, but your _Mom_  probably thinks you’ve been kidnapped!” 

“You’re overreacting.” 

Bellamy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to call her, Clarke.” 

“I can’t talk to her right now.” 

“Clarke--”

“She knew my Dad was sick! She knew he was sick and she never told me and I never even got to say goodbye until he was almost dead! She knew he was sick for _months_  before she told me. I can’t talk to her! I don’t know what I’ll say to her if I do.” 

Bellamy pales, feeling like the biggest asshole in the entire world. He knows a little bit about her Dad and how her Mom had been distancing herself from Clarke, but he never thought anything like this would happen.

Sitting down next to her, he takes her hands. “Clarke, I know you’re upset.” She opens her mouth to protest, and he hurries to reassure her. “And you have a _right_  to be. She-- She never should have done that to you.” Bellamy fumes at the idea of her own mother keeping Clarke’s father from her when he could have died any day. 

He’s never liked Abby Griffin, just based on hearsay from Clarke, and now he knows that will never change. He’ll never, ever be able to forgive someone for making Clarke show up on his doorstep in tears. 

“You should at least text her and let her know you’re okay. She could call the police, Clarke.” 

Clarke sighs. “I know. I just... give me an hour. I just-- I came here because it was the first place I thought of. _You_ were the first person I thought of, Bellamy.”

Bellamy’s heart starts to race. “Why didn’t you go to Wells? Or Raven?”

Clarke’s forehead scrunches. “I don’t know. Why does that matter?”

Bellamy stands again. “Why does it matter? It matters because you bought a _plane ticket_ , Clarke! Why did you come to me?” 

Clarke looks speechless, struggling for words. “I don’t know! Because-- because I trust you. Because we tell each other things, and I knew you would understand--”

“Okay, but what does that _mean_ , Clarke?” His voice nearly breaks. He needs her to be the one to say this, because he’s not sure he can.

She frowns. “I-- I guess it means that I can count on you, and... why are you asking me all these questions? I just--”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Clarke.” Bellamy says, his mind made up. He takes a step towards her and pulls her up from the couch, slanting his mouth over hers before he can talk himself out of it. 

Terrified that he’s taken a step too far, the relief rushes through him as she all but melts against him, a muffled whimper against his lips. His hands are framing her face like she’s something precious because she _is_ , because she _flew here from Boston_  just because she needed someone to talk to. Because she has always been the one to put him back together, and now it’s his turn to return the favor. 

Her hands grip his arms tight, eventually sliding up his arms to wind around his neck, and the kiss becomes slower and less desperate. “You have to know how I feel, Clarke.” He whispers, his lips only a breath away from hers when they break apart, not wanting to go too far away from each other. 

“As soon as my Mom and I stopped yelling at each other I had to get out of there. I didn’t even think. I packed a bag and I got on a plane.” 

“And you came here.”

“I came here.” Clarke agrees, her voice soft and quiet. “You’re my _person_ , Bell.” 

His heart swells at her words and he doesn’t hesitate to dip his head down and capture her lips once more. He knows that this is crazy. He knows it’s insane that he and Clarke even met in the first place, that they happened to come across each other on the internet and become friends. 

“You’re mine too.” He tells her. 

_the end_


End file.
